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When I first began writing a novel I’m calling “Irish Twins,” it was hard to separate Jenny and Caylie from Gayle and Michele; however, somewhere around chapter seven or eight, I finally had a clear distinction in my head. I had taken so many liberties and had as much “untrue” stuff in there as “true,” that the book took a satisfactory turn from memoir to fiction. BTW: It’s an oxymoronic event when fictional characters become “real.”
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It’s gonna happen. I’m sure of it. And my planned response to my sister is, “I know you didn’t do that. Caylie did it.” Let it be known that at this point, I don’t even know what either character is going to do move the plot forward. That’s part of what makes the process fun for me.
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If I could write prophetic rather than reflective fiction, how successful would that make me? Perhaps I should give some thought to walking a parallel road with Caylie. In the meantime, I’d like to wish my dear sister, Gayle, the happiest of birthdays. And honey, my hope for you has always been that all your wishes come true.
Love,
M
1 comment:
Happy Birthday to Gayle!!
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